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THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD: ACT I

(The Tower of London. In a room fronting on Tower Green, Phoebe and other servants are busy spinning.)

Song: PhoebeWhen maiden loves, she mopes apart,

As owl mopes on a tree;Although she keenly feels the smart,

She cannot tell what ails her heart, With a sad ‘Ah me!’

‘Tis but a foolish sigh… ‘Ah me!’Born but to droop and die… ‘Ah me!’Yet all the sense of eloquence

Lies hidden in a maid’s ‘Ah me!’

(Wilfred Shadbolt, Head Jailer, watches through an open window. He has designs on Phoebe which she does not reciprocate. She despises his coarse

attitude to his job. They discuss a special prisoner, Colonel Fairfax, accused on some trumped-up charge and due to be beheaded today. Phoebe has caught glimpses of him and feels he is probably a fine and handsome gentleman. This further fires Wilfred’s jealousy. Meantime, outside, a gathering crowd awaits

the parade of the Yeomen of the Guard.)

Chorus: OnlookersTower Warders, under orders

Gallant pikemen, valiant sworders!Brave in bearing, foemen scaring,

In their bygone days of daring!Ne’er a stranger there to danger…

Each was o’er the world a ranger;To the story of our glory

Each a bold contributory!

Chorus: YeomenIn the autumn of our life,

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Here at rest in ample clover,We rejoice in telling over

Our impetuous May and June.In the evening of our day,

With the sun of life declining,We recall without repining

All the heat of bygone noon.

Solo: 2nd YeomanThis the autumn of our life,This the evening of our day;Weary we of battle strife,Weary we of mortal fray.But our years are not so spent,

And our days are not so faded,But that we with one consent,

Were our lovÀd land invaded,Still would face a foreign foe,

As in days of long ago.Chorus Still would face a foreign foe,

As in days of long ago.

(A few servants gather to discuss the coming execution of Colonel Fairfax. Most defend him as a brave soldier. Phoebe says he twice saved her father’s life. She feels the Tower is a wicked place that must be fed with blood. Dame

Carruthers tells her this is nonsense. She should know; she was born in Tower, and, please God, she’ll be buried in it.)

Song with Chorus: Dame Carruthers and YeomenWhen our gallant Norman foes

Made our merry land their own,And the Saxons from the Conqueror were flying,

At his bidding it arose, In its panoply of stone,A sentinel unliving and undying.

Insensible, I trow, As a sentinel should be,

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Though a queen to save her head should come a-suing,There’s a legend on its brow

That is eloquent to me,And it tells of duty done and duty doing.

“The screw may twist and the rack may turn,And men may bleed and men may burn,

O’er London town and its golden hoardI keep my silent watch and ward!”

Yeomen The screw may twist, etc.

Within its wall of rock The flower of the braveHave perished with a constancy unshaken.

From the dungeon to the block, From the scaffold to the grave,Is a journey many gallant hearts have taken.

And the wicked flames may hiss Round the heroes who have foughtFor conscience and for home in all its beauty,

But the grim old fortalice Takes little head of aught

That comes not in the measure of its duty.

“The screw may twist and the rack may turn,And men may bleed and men may burn,

O’er London town and its golden hoardI keep my silent watch and ward!”

Yeomen The screw may twist, etc.

(Phoebe and her father, Sergeant Meryll, commiserate together that no reprieve has arrived to save Colonel Fairfax. Meryll says there is one last hope. Phoebe’s brother Leonard is due to arrive from Windsor to join the Yeomen; perhaps he will bring the reprieve. When Leonard arrives empty-handed, Meryll has a desperate idea. Leonard will go into hiding, Meryll will provide a uniform for a disguised Fairfax and will swear that he is Leonard.

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But how to gain access to Fairfax, when Wilfred has the cell’s only key? Phoebe offers to use her charms.

Fairfax appears in the courtyard, guarded by the Lieutenant of the Tower, Sir Richard. He is remarkably philosophical about his coming death; at least it will be punctual and swift. He meets and recognizes Sergeant Meryll as his old friend. After Meryll leaves, Fairfax asks Sir Richard a favor. It seems that the person who has accused Fairfax of sorcery is a cousin who, provided Fairfax dies unmarried, will succeed to his estate! To thwart this despicable relative, Fairfax, during the final hour remaining to him, needs to get married He points out that his bride, though soon a widow, would be richly rewarded… materially. Can Sir Richard find him a candidate?

As Fairfax is led off into Cold Harbour Tower, a troop of strolling players enters the courtyard.)

ChorusHere’s a man of jollity, jibe, joke, jollify!

Give us of your quality, come, fool, follify!If you vapour vapidly, river runneth rapidly,

Into it we fling bird who doesn’t sing!Give us an experiment in the art of merriment’

Into it we throw cock who doesn’t crow!Banish your timidity,and with all rapidity

Give us quip and quiddity… willy-nilly, O!River none can mollify; Into it we throw

Fool who doesn’t follify, cock who doesn’t crow!Banish your timidity,and with all rapidity

Give us quip and quiddity… willy-nilly, O!

(Jack Point, a jester, is the leader of the troop. Elsie Maynard is his fiancee. They ask the crowd to choose what they should sing and dance.)

Duet: Elsie and PointPoint I have a song to sing, O!Elsie Sing me your song, O!Point It is sung to the moon by a love-lorn loon,

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Who fled from the mocking throng, O!It’s a song of a merryman, moping mum,

Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye.Heighdy! Heighdy!

Misery me, lackadaydee!He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye.

Elsie I have a song to sing, O!Point What is your song, O?Elsie It is sung with the ring of the songs maids sing

Who love with a love life-long, O!It’s the song of a merrymaid, peerly proud,

Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloudAt the moan of the merryman, moping mum,

Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye!Heighdy! Heighdy!

Misery me, lackadaydee!He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye.

Point I have a song to sing, O!Elsie What is your song, O?Point It is sung to the knell of a churchyard bell,

And a doleful dirge, ding dong, O!It’s a song of a popinjay, bravely born,

Who turned up his noble nose with scornAt the humble merrymaid, peerly proud,

Who loved a lord, and who laughed aloudAt the moan of the merryman, moping mum,

Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,

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As he sighed for the love of a ladye!Heighdy! Heighdy!

Misery me, lackadaydee!He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye.

Elsie I have a song to sing, O!Point What is your song, O?Elsie It is sung with a sigh and a tear in the eye,

For it tells of a righted wrong, O!It’s a song of the merrymaid, once so gay,

Who turned on her heel and tripped awayFrom the peacock popinjay, bravely born,

Who turned up his noble nose with scornAt the humble heart that he did not prize:

So she begged on her knees, with down cast eyes,For the love of the merryman, moping mum,

Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye!All Heighdy! Heighdy!

Misery me, lackadaydee!His pains were o-er, and he sighed no more,

For he lived in the love of the ladye!

(After the song, there is a scuffle when a citizen tries to kiss Elsie and Jack repulses him. The Lieutenant disperses the crowd and leads Elsie and Jack into his office. After establishing that they are not married, he broaches the

idea of Elsie marrying “a worthy but unhappy gentleman who is to be beheaded in an hour.” The inducement of a hundred crowns is irresistible to

Elsie, particularly since her mother is sick. With considerable misgiving, Jack gives his consent. It is up to Elsie.)

Trio: Lieutenant, Elsie and Point Lieut. How say you, maiden, will you wed

A man about to lose his head?For half an hour you’ll be a wife,

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And then the dower is yours for life.A headless bridegroom why refuse?

If truth the poets tell,Most bridegrooms, ere they marry, lose

Both head and heart as well!

Elsie A strange proposal you reveal,It almost makes my senses reel.

Alas! I’m very poor indeed,And such a sum I sorely need.

My mother, sir, is like to die,This money life may bring.

Bear this in mind, I pray, if IConsent to do this thing!

Point Though as a general rule of life I don’t allow my promised wife,

My lovely bride that is to be, To marry any one but me,

Yet if the fee is promptly paid,And he, in well-earned grave

Within the hour is duly laid,Objection I will waive!

All Temptation, oh, temptation, Were we, I pray, intended

To shun, whate’er our station, Your fascinations splendid;

Or fall, whene’er we view you, Head over heels into you?

Temptation, etc.

(Turning to Jack, the Lieutenant says he has a vacancy for a Jester. What are Jack’s qualification?)

Recitative and Song: PointI’ve jibe and joke and quip and crank

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For lowly folk and men of rank.I ply my craft and know no fear,

But aim my shaft at prince or peer.At peer or prince… at prince or peer,

I aim my shaft and know no fear!

I’ve wisdom from the East and from the West,That’s subject to no academic rule;

You may find it in the jeering of a jest,Or distil it from the folly of a fool.

I can teach you with a quip, if I’ve a mind;I can trick you into learning with a laugh;

Oh, winnow all my folly, and you’ll findA grain or two of truth among the chaff!

I can set a braggart quailing with a quip,The upstart I can wither with a whim;

He may wear a merry laugh upon his lip,But his laughter has an echo that is grim!

When they’re offered to the world in merry guise,Unpleasant truths are swallowed with a will…

For he who’d make his fellow-creatures wiseShould always gild the philosophic pill!

(Jack’s last employer was the Archbishop of Canterbury, until he was fired for offending His Grace with his jests. The Lieutenant and Jack now retire, and we see Elsie being led blindfold from the Tower by Wilfred. He removes the

bandage and leaves her to contemplate her fate.)

Recitative and Song: Elsie‘Tis done! I am a bride!Oh, little ring, that bearest in thy circlet

All the gladness that lovers hope for,And that poets sing,What bringest thou to me but gold and sadness?

A bridegroom all unknown, save in this wise,Today he dies! Today, alas, he dies!

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Though tear and long-drawn sigh ill fit a bride,No sadder wife than I the whole world wide!

Ah me! Ah me!Yet maids there be

Who would consent to lose The very rose of youth,

The flower of life, to be, in honest truth,A wedded wife,

No matter whose!

Ah me! what profit we, O maids that sigh,Though gold should live if wedded love must die?

Ere half an hour has rung, a widow I!Ah, heaven, he is too young, too brave to die!

Ah me! Ah me!Yet wives there be so weary worn, I trow,

That they would scarce complain,So that they could in half an hour attain

To widowhood, No matter how!

O weary wives who widowhood would win,Rejoice that ye have time to weary in.

(Wilfred is understandably perplexed at the events in Fairfax’s cell (which he was unable to witness because Fairfax blocked up the keyhole.) Phoebe now approaches, intent on obtaining Wilfred’s key. She uses excessive flattery to distract Wilfred and successfully slips the key to Meryll. Wilfred is lost in

visions of life with Phoebe and is tantalized as Phoebe speculates whether her future husband is perhaps far away, perhaps close at hand.)

Song: PhoebeWere I thy bride, Then all the world beside were not too wide

To hold my wealth of love…

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Were I thy bride!

Upon thy breast My loving head would rest, as on her nest

The tender turtle dove…Were I thy bride!

This heart of mine Would be one heart with thine, and in that shrine

Our happiness would dwell…Were I thy bride!

And all day long Our lives should be a song. No grief, no wrong

Should make my heart rebel…Were I thy bride!

The silvery flute, The melancholy lute, were night-owl’s hoot

To my low-whispered coo…Were I thy bride!

(Meryll returns with the key, which Phoebe reattaches to Wilfred’s belt.)

The skylark’s trill Were but discordance shrill to the soft thrill

Of wooing as I’d woo…Were I thy bride!

The rose’s sigh Were as a carrion’s cry to lullaby

Such as I’d sing to thee,Were I thy bride!

A feather’s press Were leaden heaviness to my caress.

But then, of course, you see,I’m not thy bride!

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(They both leave, and Meryll reappears, followed by Fairfax, without beard or moustache and dressed in Yeoman’s uniform. Meryll corrects details of his

dress, saying “Remember, you are my brave son, Leonard.” The other Yeomen enter.)

ChorusOh, Sergeant Meryll, is it true…

The welcome news we read in orders?Thy son, whose deeds of derring-do Are echoed all the country through,

Has come to join the Tower Warders?If so, we come to meet him, That we may fitly greet himAnd welcome his arrival here With shout on shout and cheer on cheer…

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Recitative: Sergeant MeryllYe Tower Warders, nursed in war’s alarms,

Suckled on gunpowder, and weaned on glory,Behold my son, whose all-subduing arms

Have formed the theme of many a song and story!Forgive his aged father’s pride; nor jeer

His aged father’s sympathetic tear!

ChorusLeonard Meryll! Leonard Meryll!

Dauntless he in time of peril!Man of power, knighthood’s flower,

Welcome to the grim old Tower,To the Tower, welcome thou!

Recitative: Fairfax (as Leonard)Forbear, my friends, and spare me this ovation,I have small claim to such consideration;The tales that of my prowess are narrated

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Have been prodigiously exaggerated!Chorus ‘Tis ever thus! Wherever valour true is found

True modesty will there abound.

1st Yeoman Didst thou not, oh, Leonard Meryll!Standard lost in last campaign,

Rescue it at deadly peril…Bear it safely back again?

Chorus Leonard Meryll, at his peril,Bore it safely back again!

2nd Yeoman Didst thou not, when prisoner taken,And debarred from all escape,

Face, with gallant heart unshakenDeath in most appalling shape?

Chorus Leonard Meryll, faced his peril,Death in most appalling shape!

Fairfax Truly I was to be pitied,Having but an hour to live,

I reluctantly submitted,I had no alternative!

Oh! The tales that are narratedOf my deeds of derring-do

Have been much exaggerated,Very much exaggerated,

Scarce a word of them is true!Chorus They are not exaggerated, etc.

Phoe. Leonard!Fair. (puzzled) I beg your pardon?Phoe. Don’t you know me? I’m little Phoebe!Fair. Phoebe? Is this Phoebe?

What! Little Phoebe? (Aside) Who the deuce may she be?(Aloud) It can’t be Phoebe, surely?Wil. Yes, ‘tis Phoebe…

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Your sister Phoebe! Your own little sister!Chorus Aye, he speaks the truth; ‘Tis Phoebe!Fair. (pretending to recognize her) Sister Phoebe!Phoe. Oh, my brother!Fair. Why, how you’ve grown! I did not recognize you!Phoe. So many years! Oh, my brother!Fair. Oh, my sister!Wil. Aye, hug him, girl! There are three thou mayst hug…

Thy father and thy brother and… myself!Fair. Thyself, forsooth? And who art thou thyself?Wil. Good sir, we are betrothed.Phoe. Or more or less… but rather less than more!Wil. To thy fond care I do commend thy sister.

Be to her an ever-watchful guardian… eagle-eyed!And when she feels (as sometimes she does feel)Disposed to indiscriminate caress,Be thou at hand to take those favours from her!

Chorus Be thou at hand to take those favours from her! Phoe. Yes, Yes

Be thou at hand to take those favours from me!

Trio: Wilfred, Fairfax and PhoebeWil. To thy fraternal care

Thy sister I commend;From every lurking snare

Thy lovely charge defend:And to achieve this end,

Oh! grant, I pray, this boon…She shall not quit thy sight: From morn to afternoon…

From afternoon to night… From seven o’clock to two….

From two to eventide… From dim twilight to ‘leven at night

She shall not quit thy side!Chorus From morn to afternoon, etc.

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Phoe. So amiable I’ve grown, So innocent as well,

That if I’m left alone The consequences fellNo mortal can foretell.

So grant, I pray, this boon…I shall not quit thy sight, From morn to afternoon…

From afternoon to night… From seven o’clock to two….

From two to eventide… From dim twilight to ‘leven at night

I shall not quit thy side!Chorus From morn to afternoon, etc.

Fairfax With brotherly readiness,For my fair sister’s sake,

At once I answer ‘Yes’…That task I undertake…My word I never break.

I freely grant that boon,And I’ll repeat my plight,From morn to afternoon…

From afternoon to night…From seven o’clock to two….

From two to eventide…From dim twilight to ‘leven at night

That compact I will seal.Chorus From morn to afternoon, etc.

(The bell of St Peter’s begins to toll. Yeomen and other onlookers take their places for the execution ceremony. A procession enters, bearing the block.

Fairfax and two others enter the tower to fetch the prisoner.)

ChorusThe prisoner comes to meet his doom:The block, the headsman, and the tomb.

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The funeral bell begins to toll…May Heaven have mercy on his soul!

Solo: Elsie with ChorusOh, Mercy, thou whose smile has shoneSo many a captive heart upon:Of all immured within these walls, Today the very worthiest falls!

Chorus Oh, Mercy, etc.

(Enter Fairfax and two other Yeoman from the Tower…in great excitement.)

Fair. My lord! I know not how to tell the news I bear!I and my comrades sought the prisoner’s cell…He is not there!

Chorus He is not there!They sought the prisoner’s cell… he is not there!

Trio: Fairfax and two YeomenAs escort for the prisoner

We sought his cell, in duty bound;The double gratings open were,

No prisoner at all we found!We hunted high, we hunted low,

We hunted here, we hunted there…The man we sought with anxious care

Had vanished into empty air!Girls Now, by my troth, the news is fair,

The man has vanished into air!

Lieut. Astounding news! The prisoner fled! (to Wilfred) Thy life shall forfeit be instead!

(Wilfred is arrested.)Wil. My lord, I did not set him free,

I hate the man… my rival he!

Mer. The prisoner gone… I’m all agape!

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Who could have helped him to escape?

Phoe. Indeed I can’t imagine who! I’ve no idea at all… have you?

Dame Of his escape no traces lurk, Enchantment must have been at work!

Elsie What have I done! Oh, woe is me! I am his wife, and he is free!

Point Oh, woe is you? Your anguish sink! Oh, woe is me, I rather think!Oh, woe is me, I rather think!Oh, woe is me, I rather think!

Whate’er betide, you are his bride! And I am left alone… bereft!

Yes, woe is me, I rather think!

Ensemble: Lieutenant, Principals and ChorusAll frenzied with despair I rave,

The grave is cheated of its due.Who is the misbegotten knave

Who hath contrived this deed to do?Let search be made throughout the land,

Or my vindictive anger dread…A thousand marks to him we’ll hand

Who brings him here, alive or dead.

THE YEOMEN OF THE GUARD: ACT II

(Two days have elapsed and the prisoner has not been found. It is night, and Jack Point is overwhelmed at the loss of his Elsie. The women are disgusted

with the inefficiency of the warders.)

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Chorus of WomenNight has spread her pall once more,

And the prisoner still is free:Open is his dungeon door,

Useless his dungeon key!He has shaken off his yoke…

How, no mortal man can tell!Shame on loutish jailer-folk…

Shame on sleepy sentinel!

Solo: Dame CarruthersWarders are ye? Whom do ye ward?Bold, bar and key, shackle and cord,Fetter and chain, dungeon of stone,

All are in vain… prisoner’s flown!Spite of ye all, he is free… he is free!

Whom do ye ward! Pretty warders are ye!Chorus Pretty warders are ye, etc.

Yeomen Up and down, and in and out, Here and there, and round about;Every chamber, every house, Every chink that holds a mouse,Every crevice in the keep, Where a beetle black could creep,Every outlet, every drain, Have we searched, but all in vain.

Ensemble Warders are we, etc.Whom do ye ward? etc.

(Jack Point and Wilfred converse. Both are depressed, Jack because he is jilted, Wilfred because he is disgraced. Wilfred fantasizes that he, too, might become a jester… he claims on occasion to have made a prisoner smile. He

asks Jack if it is easy to be a good jester.)

Song: PointOh! A private buffoon is a light-hearted loon,

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If you listen to popular rumour;From the morn to the night he’s so joyous and bright,

And he bubbles with wit and good humour!He’s so quaint and so terse, both in prose and in verse;

Yet though people forgive his transgression,There are one or two rules that all family fools

Must observe, if they love their profession.There are one or two rules, half a dozen, maybe,

That all family fools, of whatever degree,Must observe, if they love their profession.

If you wish to succeed as a jester, you’ll needTo consider each person’s auricular:

What is all right for B would quite scandalize C(For C is so very particular);

And D may be dull, and E’s very thick skullIs as empty of brains as a ladle;

While F is F sharp, and will cry with a carpThat he’s known your best joke from his cradle!

When your humour they flout, you can’t let yourself go;And it does put you out when a person says, “Oh,

I have known that old joke from my cradle!”

If your master is surly, from getting up early(And tempers are short in the morning),

An inopportune joke is enough to provokeHim to give you, at once, a month’s warning.

Then if you refrain, he is at you again,For he likes to get value for money;

He’ll ask then and there, with an insolent stare,“If you know that you’re paid to be funny!”

It adds to the tasks of a merryman’s place,When your principal asks, with a scowl on his face,

If you know that you’re paid to be funny?

Comes a Bishop, maybe, or a solemn D.D….Oh, beware of his anger provoking!

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Better not pull his hair… don’t stick pins in his chair;He don’t understand practical joking.

If the jests that you crack have an orthodox smack,You may get a bland smile from these sages;

But should they, by chance, be imported from France,Half-a-crown is stopped out of your wages!

It’s a general rule, though your zeal it may quench,If the family fool tells a joke that’s too French,

Half-a-crown is stopped out of his wages!

Though your head it may rack with a bilious attack,And your senses with toothache you’re losing,

Don’t be mopy and flat… they don’t fine you for that,If you’re properly quaint and amusing!

Though your wife ran away with a soldier that day,And took with her your trifle of money;

Bless your heart, they don’t mind - they’re exceedingly kind…They don’t blame you… as long as you’re funny!

It’s a comfort to feel, if your partner should flit,Though you suffer a deal, they don’t mind it a bit…

They don’t blame you… so long as you’re funny!

(Point now offers Wilfred a deal. He explains that as long as Fairfax is alive, Elsie is legally married, and Point is jilted. If Wilfred will say that he

definitely shot Fairfax (with an arquebus on a dark night), he (Point) will teach him every secret of the jester’s trade. Given such an easy lie, Wilfred

says “Yes, it is a bargain!”)

Duet: Point and WilfredBoth Hereupon we’re both agreed,

All that we two do agree toWe’ll secure by solemn deed,

To prevent all error mental.Point You on Elsie are to call

With a story grim and gory:Wil. How this Fairfax died, and all

I declare to you’re to swear to.

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Point I swear to!Wil. I declare to!

Both Tell a tale of cock and bull,Of convincing detail full,

Tale tremendous heaven defend us!What a tale of cock and bull!

Both In return for your own part I am making undertaking

To instruct me in the art (Art amazing, wonder raising)

Point Of a jester, jesting free. Proud position… high ambition!

And a lively one I’ll be, Wag-a-wagging, never flagging!

Point Wag-a-wagging!Wil. Never flagging!

Both Tell a tale of cock and bull, etc.

(Now the meddlesome instincts of Dame Carruthers pose a problem. Her niece Kate has overheard Elsie dreaming in her sleep. A number of revealing phrases such as “How shall I marry one I have never seen? Is it certain he

will die in an hour?” have convinced the Dame that Elsie has married Fairfax. In vain Fairfax suggests the girl must have been merely raving.

Secretly he is pleased to learn the identity of his wife. He might have fared worse with his eyes open! These thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a

gun on the battlements. Meryll enters hastily.)

Mer. Hark! What was that, sir?Fair. Why, an arquebus…

Fired from the wharf, unless I much mistake.Mer. Strange… and at such an hour! What can it mean?

(A crowd quickly gathers in alarm.)

Chorus Now what can that have been… a shot so late at night,

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Enough to cause a fright! What can the portent mean?Are foemen in the land? Is London to be wrecked?What are we to expect? What danger is at hand?Let us understand what danger is at hand!

(Enter Lieutenant, also Point and Wilfred)

Lieut. Who fired that shot? At once the truth declare!Wil. My lord, ‘twas I… to rashly judge forbear!Point. My lord, ‘twas he… who rashly judged forbear!

Duet: Wilfred and PointWil. Like a ghost his vigil keeping… Point. Or a spectre all appalling…Wil. I beheld a figure creeping… Point. I should rather call it crawling…Wil. He was creeping… Point. He was crawling…Wil. Not a moment’s hesitation…

I myself upon him flung,With a hurried exclamation

To his draperies I hung;Then we closed with one another

In a rough-and-tumble smother;Colonel Fairfax and no other

Was the man to whom I clung!All Colonel Fairfax and no other

Was the man to whom he clung!Wil. After mighty tug and tussle… Point. It resembled more a struggle…Wil. He, by dint of stronger muscle… Point. Or by some infernal juggle…Wil. From my clutches quickly sliding… Point. I should rather call it slipping…Wil. With a view, no doubt, of hiding… Point. Or escaping to the shipping…Wil. With a gasp, and with a quiver… Point. I’d describe it as a shiver…

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Wil. Down he dived into the river, And, alas, I cannot swim.

All It’s enough to make one shiver…With a gasp, and with a quiver…

Down he dived into the river;It was very brave of him!

Wil. Ingenuity is catching; With the view my king of pleasing,

Arquebus from sentry snatching… Point. I should rather call it seizing…Wil. With an ounce or two of lead

I despatched him through the head! All With an ounce or two of lead

He despatched him through the head!Wil. I discharged it without winking,

Little time I lost in thinkingLike a stone I saw him sinking…

Point. I should say a lump of lead.All He discharged it without winking

Little time he lost in thinking.Wil. Like a stone I saw him sinking… Point. I should say a lump of lead.Wil. Like a stone, my boy, I said… Point. Like a heavy lump of lead.Wil. Anyhow, the man is dead,

Whether stone or lump of lead!All Anyhow, the man is dead,

Whether stone or lump of lead!Arquebus from sentry snatching…

With a view his king of pleasing,Wilfred shot him through the head,

And he’s very, very dead. And it matters very little whether stone or lump of lead.

It is very, very certain that he’s very, very dead!

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Recitative: LieutenantThe river must be dragged… no time be lost;

The body must be found, at any cost.To this attend without undue delay;

So set to work with what despatch ye may!All Yes, yes,

We’ll set to work with what despatch we may!

(A procession quickly forms, carrying Wilfred shoulder-high in triumph.)

ChorusHail the valiant fellow who

Did this deed of derring-do!Honours wait on such an one:

By my head, ‘twas bravely done!

(Point, Elsie, Fairfax and Phoebe are gathered in conversation. Point is upset that Elsie seems distraught at her husband’s death. Now that she is again free, he pleads that he has many virtues… good-looks, youth, and above all

wit. Fairfax tells him wit is not the way to woo a fair maid.)

Trio: Fairfax, Elsie and PhoebeFair. A man who would woo a fair maid

Should ‘prentice himself to the trade,And study all day in methodical way,

How to flatter, cajole, and persuade;He should ‘prentice himself at fourteen,

And practise from morning to e’en;And when he’s of age, if he will, I’ll engage,

He may capture the heart of a queen!All It is purely a matter of skill,

Which all may attain if they will:But every Jack, he must study the knack

If he wants to make sure of his Jill!

Elsie If he’s made the best use of his time,His twig he’ll so carefully lime

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That every bird will come down at his word,Whatever its plumage or clime.

He must learn that the thrill of a touchMay mean little, or nothing, or much:

It’s an instrument rare, to be handled with care,And ought to be treated as such.

All It is purely a matter of skill, etc.

Phoe. Then a glance may be timid or free,It will vary in mighty degree,

From an impudent stare to a look of despairThat no maid without pity can see!

And a glance of despair is no guide…It may have its ridiculous side;

It may draw you a tear or a box on the ear;You can never be sure till you’ve tried!

All It is purely a matter of skill, etc.

(Fairfax (in his alias as Leonard Meryll) now approaches Elsie and tells her there is “one here who loves thee right well.” At first he seems to be talking about Point, but it becomes apparent that he is in fact making a marriage proposal on his own behalf. Point is appalled, but Leonard brushes him aside. “I promised I would show thee how to woo. Go thou and apply it elsewhere.”

The plot deepens. Phoebe, smarting at being jilted by Fairfax whom she helped save, accidentally let’s slip to Wilfred that she is jealous of “the man who is to marry Elsie” (Leonard). To Wilfred, Leonard is her brother! In desperation, Phoebe seeks to allay Wilfred’s growing suspicions by agreeing to marry him after all. When her real brother arrives with the news that Fairfax is reprieved, she embraces him joyfully to Wilfred’s outrage. Finally, Phoebe is forced to tell the whole truth. Her father arrives to find Phoebe in Wilfred’s arms. He is reluctantly reconciled to the price that Phoebe must pay, and a dual wedding is arranged for both Phoebe and Elsie.)

Chorus of WomenComes the pretty young bride, a-blushing, timidly shrinking…

Set all thy fears aside… cheerily, pretty young bride!

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Brave is the youth to whom thy lot thou art willingly linking!Flower of valour is he… loving as loving can be!

Brightly thy summer is shining, fair as the dawn of the day;Take him, be true to him…

Tender his due to him…Honour him, love and obey!

Trio: Phoebe, Elsie, and Dame Carruthers‘Tis said that joy in full perfection

Comes only once to womankind…That, other times, on close inspection,

Some lurking bitter we shall find.If this be so, and men say truly,

My day of joy has broken duly.With happiness my soul is cloyed…

This is my joy-day unalloyed!All Yes, yes, with happiness her soul is cloyed!

This is her joy-day unalloyed.

Lieut. Hold, pretty one! I bring to theeNews… good or ill, it is for thee to say.Thy husband lives… and he is free,

And comes to claim his bride this very day!

(Elsie is now in love with Leonard and, since she was blindfolded when marrying Fairfax, is expecting to be confronted by an unwelcome stranger.

During what follows she averts her eyes and does not recognize that Leonard and Fairfax are the same person.”

Elsie No! no! recall those words… it cannot be!All Oh, day of terror!

Day of tears!Elsie Oh, Leonard, come thou to my side,

And claim me as thy loving bride!Day of terror! Day of tears!

Fair. All thought of Leonard Meryll set aside.

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Thou art mine own! I claim thee as my bride.Chorus Thou art his own! Alas! He claims thee as his bride.Elsie A suppliant at thy feet I fall;

Thine heart will yield to pity’s call!Fair. Mine is a heart of massive rock,

Unmoved by sentimental shock!Chorus Thy husband he!Elsie (aside) Leonard, my loved one… come to me.

They bear me hence away!But though they take me far from thee,

My heart is thine for aye!My bruisÀd heart, my broken heart,

Is thine, my own, for aye!(Still not looking at Fairfax)

Sir, I obey! I am thy bride;But ere the fatal hour I said the say

That placed me in thy power would I had died!Sir, I obey! I am thy bride!

(For the first time she recognizes him.)Leonard!

Fair. My own!

Elsie, Fair. With happiness my soul is cloyed,This is our joy-day unalloyed!

Chorus Yes, yes!With happiness their souls are cloyed,

This is their joy-day unalloyed!

Point. Oh, thoughtless crew! Ye know not what ye do!

Attend to me, and shed a tear or two…For I have a song to sing, O!

Chorus Sing me your song, O!

It is sung to the moon by a love-lorn loon,Who fled from the mocking throng, O!

It’s the song of a merryman, moping mum,

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Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye!Chorus Heighdy! heighdy!

Misery me, lackadaydee!He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,

As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

Elsie I have a song to sing, O!Chorus What is your song, O?

Elsie It is sung with the ring of the songs maids singWho love with a love life-long, O!

It’s the song of a merrymaid, nestling near,Who loved her lord… but who dropped a tear

At the moan of the merryman, moping mum,Whose soul was sad, and whose glance was glum,

Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

Chorus Heighdy! heighdy!Misery me, lackadaydee!

He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

(As the crowd disperses, Jack Point, left alone, collapses to the ground.)

END OF ACT II